What Matters
by MyLittleAssassin
Summary: Altair's methods are unusual, but he got what he wanted. Alex can't really complain. Major OOC, fluff, implied themes. Protocreed. Rated T.


Alex nearly fell off the barstool when Altair kissed him.

It wasn't that he wasn't expecting it (well, he really _hadn't_ been expecting it, but not a lot really surprised him anymore,) it was the fact that the shorter male was kissing him with enough force to knock the both of them over. His tongue was desperately trying to enter Alex's mouth, but the older male wasn't allowing it. He whined plaintively, bouncing slightly in frustration.

"Alex!" he complained. "C'mon!"

"Altair—!"

Alex cut himself off when the other male climbed onto his lap and sat determinedly, kissing him sloppily yet again. His eyes widened when he felt the half-hardness of Altair's member. Grabbing his shoulders, Alex pushed his charge back, though not hard enough to send him tumbling off his lap, and looked at him incredulously.

The assassin's cheeks were flushed (perhaps a side effect of all the alcohol he'd drunk,) his mouth was hung half open, and his eyes were pleading for something Alex would rather not think about at the moment. With an awkward glance around the room, the virus realized that too many people were looking at them too closely. Growling, Alex set Altair on his feet, took his hand, and led him out of the bar muttering, "Come on."

When Altair finally found the ability to walk at least half properly, he deemed it appropriate to try and attach himself to his friend's side. Multiple times, he lifted Alex's arm and ducked beneath it, wrapping his arms around his abdomen, only to be disappointed when he was pushed away.

"Alex!" Altair whined. "It's cold outside! Just let me hug you!"

To emphasize his demand, he stamped his foot somewhat childishly. Many other people walking around them turned to smile and even laugh quietly at the display. Alex did his best to glare at them and Altair at the same time.

At that moment, the two men decided to just stand in the middle of the street, staring hard at each other. It was horribly unproductive in the end, because Alex caved first and simply walked away. He heard Altair splutter indignantly behind him and his awkward, drunken footsteps follow.

"Alex!" he yelled. "Alex! Alex!" For almost two more blocks, he called after the (only slightly) irritated man several steps ahead of him. "Alex!" he called desperately. His voice sounded broken and helpless, and it was more than enough to make the virus finally stop and turn around.

He sighed and retraced his steps, stopping in front of the man who looked like he was on the verge of tears, sniffling and lower lip trembling. Altair refused to look up at him, despite his previous cries for attention.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Alex finally sighed and said, "Fine, come here." Altair looked up hesitantly, but smiled when he noticed the other man was holding up his arm in invitation. With a hum of contentment, he glued himself to Alex's side and even rested his head on his shoulder. Alex glowered, but continued on anyway.

In only a matter of minutes, he was standing in front of his apartment door, steadying Altair, who was swaying on his feet. He quickly kicked the door open and led his charge to his bedroom. When the assassin was finally laid safely and comfortably on the bed, Alex turned to leave.

"No!" Altair cried, lunging forward to catch his hand.

Alex turned his eyes heavenward but turned around to darkly mutter, "What?"

His tone alone was enough to make Altair flinch, dropping the other's hand in favor of cradling his own against his chest. Tears welled in his eyes again and he asked, "Why don't you like me?" The tears overflowed and streamed down his face, a broken sob escaping his throat.

"Ah, geez," Alex berated himself. He made a mental note to never let Altair get drunk again; he was much too unpredictable and he wasn't even sure he was going to make it through the night. "I do like you," he assured, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Since he was the only other person in the room, he was the only person Altair could find comfort in, so he threw himself at the other man in a fit of depression.

"No, you don't," he whined into Alex's chest.

"Yes, I do. Why don't you think I like you?"

"I can see it in your face! Even earlier, when I called out for you, you didn't even turn around!"

A wave of guilt washed over Alex. He rarely felt the emotion, but now, it was pounding so strongly in his chest it was impossible to ignore. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around Altair's trembling frame and rested his cheek on top of his head.

"I thought that if I ignored you you'd keep following me. I'm really sorry; I didn't mean to upset you."

"What did you think would happen?" Altair exploded, shoving himself away from Alex. "I cry for you and you ignore me? And I'm not supposed to get upset? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Alex knew that there was truth to Altair's words. It made him feel terrible—the fact that Altair was now _yelling_ made it even worse. He'd never heard the shorter man yell or even seen him so angry. When he turned to lie down on the bed, his back facing Alex, it felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest with a knife of ice.

There was silence. For several moments, Alex sat motionless on the bed, unsure of what to do. Cautiously, he laid down on the bed himself and reached out to tentatively touch Altair. When the man didn't object (or even move,) Alex took it a step further and pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely.

"Why do you push me away?" he heard Altair whisper. It took him a moment to finalize his answer.

"I don't mean to," he said quietly. "I'm not good with relationships."

Altair snorted. "Obviously."

"I'm sorry, Altair. I do like you. You have to believe that."

The man in his arms twisted until he was facing Alex fully. His hands trailed up his chest, stopping when they reached his neck.

"Then what are we going to do about it?" he whispered.

Alex closed his eyes and let his body do what felt natural. He wasn't surprised when he felt soft, compliant lips pressing against his gently but eagerly. The kiss soon deepened and Alex allowed Altair to lie on top of him. If it made him happy…

When they separated, Altair brushed his cheek against the virus's and whispered, "I love you."

Alex didn't respond right away. Altair had only been living with him for a little over three months. Now, here they were, kissing lovingly on the bed and lying as close together as was humanly possible.

It was such a short time, two months. It seemed like only yesterday Alex had plucked Altair from the streets of New York, saving him from a life of confusion and loneliness. But in those two months, just eight weeks, just fifty six days, Altair had gotten under his skin and now it seemed he was there to stay. Before he could realize he was saying it, Alex heard himself responding to Altair's confession.

"I love you, too, Altair."

He got a glimpse of the other man smiling widely—happily—before his lips were claimed again in a deep kiss. Not to be outdone, Alex slid his tongue into Altair's submissive mouth and claimed it as his. He rolled on top of the assassin to cage him in so he wouldn't get away—not that he even wanted to. When he moved down to Altair's neck, laying love bites and kisses, and the smaller male let out an excited moan, he knew it was going to be a long night. He didn't mind. He looked forward to it.

Altair woke the next morning feeling warm and comfortable, if a little cramped. He smiled sleepily to himself and sighed, snuggling deeper into the broad chest in front of him. Wait…chest?

Altair suddenly jolted awake, sitting upright and effectively waking the man next to him. The action made him painfully aware of his throbbing backside and he let out a groan. When he saw Alex, worriedly watching him from his lying position on the bed, the night before came flooding back into his mind.

He smiled to himself. So it wasn't just a dream…

Alex tenderly laid his hand on his back and sat up, looking at him with concern clearly written on his features.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

Now that he thought about it, maybe just one round is what they should've started with. It was their first time together, after all.

Altair smiled reassuringly at him and said, "No, I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll just have to avoid walking for a while." Smiling mischievously, he hugged Alex around the midriff and kissed his cheek. "I guess you'll just have to take care of me, then, huh?" Alex smiled and wrapped an arm around Altair's shoulders.

"What about us?" he asked quietly, connecting their foreheads.

He received a kiss on the corner of his mouth and he heard the assassin whisper, "I'm yours. If you want me to be."

Alex was quick to respond. "I want you. Couldn't just leave you high and dry, right? 'Specially after last night."

Altair laughed quietly and pressed another kiss to his now-lover's lips. He supposed that his methods were a bit unorthodox—getting drunk and seducing the object of his affection—but he got what he wanted. That was what mattered, right?

Helllllloooo. :) So, I love this pairing. Love, love, love it. But there's, like, _no_ fanfiction of it! We'll just have to fix that, won't we? ;) But there's lots of beautifully drawn fanart of it. You should head to deviantART if you're interested. ;)

I know, I know, both characters are incredibly OOC. Especially Altair. But, hey, for half of this he was drunk, so who knows what he'd be like? I like to think the booze would bring out his sillier, more dependent side. Or maybe not. It's entirely up for speculation! Besides, I have a fetish with tough, strong men being loving and sweet only for their lovers. :) It's just cute. Don't judge me.

Soooo…tell me, what do you think Altair would be like drunk? Let me know! Hope you enjoyed and leave a review if you wish. :)


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